


A Crushing Sickness

by EmetoOmo



Series: Jamie/Vincent (OCs) [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Emetophilia, M/M, Orignal Characters - Freeform, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 17:51:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15611718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmetoOmo/pseuds/EmetoOmo
Summary: Jamie’s stubborn, but entirely hunk-a-licious roommate Vincent comes down with a stomach bug. The self-proclaimed God of Iron Stomachs is reluctant to admit that he is sick, but when relief refuses to come even after he’s submitted to the nausea, it’s up to Jamie to help his crush find some reprieve from it.





	A Crushing Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous asked: Is it too much to ask for a little request? A story about some guy and his male roommate (who he has a crush on, maybe) where his roommate is really sick and drops his whole tough guy facade and begs for the guy to help him throw up? (I feel really awkward asking this)
> 
> Warning: Graphic descriptions of vomiting and a slight mention of arousal ahead.

Jamie yawned, rubbing deep blue eyes from beneath his thick rimmed glasses as he made his way from his room. It was already a quarter to noon, but the prior night’s raid in World of Warcraft had run late. It wasn’t unheard of for Jamie to sleep in sometimes even til three or four in the afternoon after a particularly long raid-night.

It was, however, unheard of for Vincent to not be up and having his post-workout kale shake by then.

Padding into the kitchen, cold tile offensive against his warm bare feet, Jamie looked around for any tell-tale sign that his roommate had simply not returned yet. Or had returned and left. The blender was still in the cabinet, however, and his keys were still on the hook. He shrugged a little, and opened the microwave, preparing to take out the breakfast that Vincent had usually left for him…only to find the microwave cold and empty.

“Huh…” He murmured to himself, furrowing his brow in thought before he turned and started toward Vincent’s bedroom door. A soft coughing sound echoed through the thin wood, and Jamie frowned softly, before raising his knuckles to rap gently against the wood. “You alright in there?”

There was a pause, some shuffling around, before he got a reply. “Uh, yeah dude. Just changing up the routine. Today’s a rest day.”

“Alright, man. I’m going to start some breakfast, you want any?” He asked.

“Nah, already ate. I’ll be out in a minute man,” Vincent replied. Giving a shrug, Jamie turned and headed back into the kitchen to get his own breakfast started.

Ten minutes later, the entire apartment smelled strongly of greasy fried eggs and a half pound of bacon. One could audibly hear the popping of the far-too-hot-grease as Jamie burned his breakfast. He didn’t care, honestly. Food was food so long as it got into his belly. He loved to eat, and often ate far more than his slender frame looked like it could handle.

He was concerned, however, that by the time he had finished cooking it all, Vincent still hadn’t made his way out of his room. He sat patiently though, starting to dig into his breakfast, not wanting to be a bother. It was hard with the growing crush he had for the other taller, buff man, but he did try to give him space and not mother hen him to death when he worried.

 _I’d die if he realized how I felt…_  He thought to himself in between large bites of bacon. They hadn’t exactly clicked off the get-go when Vincent had moved in at first. Jamie had grown used to living alone and being a competitive gamer, his house keeping skills had pretty much only been enough to keep him from getting bugs. Vincent, however, was more meticulous and organized. His trying to keep things cleaned had not only caused arguments about Jamie not pulling his weight, but for Vincent interrupting his system of ‘organized chaos’ where things had been a mess, but he knew exactly where everything was.

It was two months before a car accident where Jamie had broken his arm in three places and had needed surgery and physical therapy that they had found a calm in their storm to really sit and just talk. Vincent had really taken it upon himself to make sure Jamie was eating well, and getting his physical therapy. Whatever help he had needed, he’d given to him, and without question.

Jamie just wished someone had warned him that in return, he was stealing his heart too.

“Hey man, how is it?” Vincent asked, pulling Jamie from his thoughts. The younger man blinked, finding his roommate far more pale than usual, shadows beneath his violet-blue eyes.

“Are you alright?” He found himself asking before he could stop it.

Vincent shrugged. “Yeah, man, what do you mean?” He smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I um…I guess you just…look a little pale,” Jamie said, watching him closely.

Vincent waved him off, going into the kitchen to get his kale smoothie starting, but not before opening a few windows, waving his hand against the scent of Jamie’s breakfast that hung heavy in the air.

“Sorry, I guess I did burn it a bit,” he apologized, still chewing through it either way.

“S’ok. More incentive for me to make sure I cook breakfast every day,” he said, chuckling softly though it was obvious his heart wasn’t in it. His hand kept going to his stomach, rubbing it gently while he gathered what he needed.

Jamie turned away, finishing up his plate and trying not to bother him. Vincent went on finishing getting his Kale shake finished, and by the time he was forcing himself to guzzle it down, Jamie was setting his plate in the sink.

A quick glance up and that final swallow had Vincent almost as green as the shake itself. The taller man still set the glass gently in the sink, and forced several deep breaths, before shaking his head and groaning. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Pink flushed Jamie’s cheeks as he felt heat flood his body quickly and unexpectedly. “H-hey man…um…” He emptied one side of the sink just in case it was coming up right then. “If you need to, go ahead.”

He shook his head against stubbornly, holding up a finger as he forced himself to swallow it all down again and keep it down. “Nah…” he whispered after a moment. “I’m fine. See…all better. False alarm.”

Jamie lofted a brow, not so sure, but didn’t say a word. At least, it was a distraction from that nagging heat in the pit of his own stomach. “So, uh…did you catch Arrow last night or…”

“I was waiting on you, man,” he said feigning a smile as he moved over to the couch. His steps were lighter than usual, stepping carefully to offset the sloshing of his stomach.

Jamie followed, taking a seat on the couch. He cast a glance toward the bathroom door straight off their living room, making sure the path was open. Vincent may have convinced himself that he never got sick, but Jamie wasn’t so sure. He was looking rougher by the moment. Grabbing the remote, he queued up the TiVo, and set the previous night’s Arrow episode to playing.

Almost no sooner than Vincent’s well-sculpted backside had touched the cushions and he was back up. “I’ll be back..” he said in a rush, making a bee-line for the bathroom.

He dry heaved loudly before he even reached the door, pitching over a moment and grabbing the coffee table to brace himself. Gathering enough of his wits, he covered his mouth with one hand and just ran the rest of the way into the bathroom, no time to close the door.

Kneeling before the toilet, he dry heaved again, leaving Jamie to shift uncomfortably on the couch with a heavy breath through his nose. He had not wanted Vincent to know he had a crush, yes. But he had wanted him to realize he was an emetophile even less.

Instead, he planted his feet, and tried to focus on the television and pray the rock hard welcoming committee between his legs would calm down in case Vincent needed anything.

—

“Vince?” He whispered, coming to the bathroom door. Arrow had ended, and he’d simply turned the television off. Jamie’s face was flushed, and his head a little fuzzy from the diverted blood flow. “Are you sure you have to throw up? You’ve been dry heaving for an hour…” An hour that was equal parts arousing and absolute torture…

Vincent had laid his head against the seat, panting, sweat sheened on his forehead. The force of his dry heaving had busted blood vessels in his throat. “I can’t…throw up…”

Jamie swallowed. “Do you want to?” He asked quietly.

Vincent didn’t even have to think. “Yes…please dude. Help me. I can’t take it.” He pleaded pathetically.

“You just…take these two fingers,” he held his index and middle fingers up for him. “and slide them down your throat. Wiggle them around, and just…pull them out before you throw up.”

“I can’t…” He whispered, shaking his head before dry heaving again. “Y-you do it for me. I’m too much of a chicken shit. I’ll pull them out without…anything being accomplished…”

 _God help me…_  Jamie whispered. “Alright, man. Um…let me get you a glass of warm water first. That should help get things started.”

The gamer wasn’t gone long, grabbing a medium glass of warm water, and brought it in to Vincent. “Down this.”

He took it and frowned. “This is really warm dude…”

“Exactly, and your stomach is going to feel about it the way you do in a moment. Trust me,” he said quietly, kneeling beside him. “I’m going to have to get behind you to do this dude…is that— “

“I trust you,” Vincent pleaded. “Please…just help me throw up. I can’t…I can’t take this anymore…”

“Alright, dude…drink.” Jamie directed.

Vincent downed the glass with some notable trouble, before setting it on the tub and positioning himself over the toilet, a steady stream of saliva leaving his parted lips.

Jamie moved behind the larger man, having to still sit slightly to the side of him and press his body fully against him to comfortably be able to do it for him. Slender fingers pressed past his parted lip. “Alright, here goes…”

He could feel Vincent relax and open his throat to him with a surprising ease, and pressing his tongue a little, he let his fingertips stimulate the back of his throat. His throat muscles contracted around Jamie’s fingers as he gagged with a belch, though nothing came out, his eyes forced closed from the force of it. Jamie didn’t let up, getting one more gag out of him before he removed his fingers and let him breath. “Damn dude…you really don’t throw up.”

“That…time almost…had me…” He panted, pressing back against him a little more and opening his mouth for him again, practically begging.

Jamie didn’t know how he could hide his raging hard-on for how out of his mind riled up this was getting him, but he was doing his damnedest to just get this on and done hopefully before Vincent noticed and got upset. Sliding his fingers back in, Vincent retched another four times while Jamie bit his own lip, before he felt a warm, viscous liquid slide over his hand. He barely hand time to move out of the way before Vincent was vomiting forcefully into the bowl. The strength of it caused it to splash back some at him.

With the dam broken, it came one wave, after another, after another, after another with no reprieve. A gasp for breath only barely got him enough breath before he vomited again, turning red. Jamie held him up, his hand on his stomach as he felt every retch, just trying to keep Vincent from falling over. His other arm rubbed his back comfortingly. “That’s it man, let it all out. I’m here.”

It nearly lifted him off the floor as he vomited until there was nothing left but a small wave of bile coming up, and he just collapsed back against Jamie’s smaller frame spent, and half delirious from fever and the oxygen lost between gushes.

“You’re burning up…” Jamie whispered, trapped between him and the tub, awkwardly holding him in a way he hoped was less creepy and more comforting. 

“Thank you man…” Vincent’s voice was hoarse and painful.

“Shh…let’s get you cleaned up and into bed, eh?” Jamie reached, taking a few tries before he could get his fingertips on the flusher, getting rid of the contents in the bowl. It was another few minutes before Vincent had the strength to move enough to let Jamie out from under him to get the shower started.

~fin~


End file.
